


Skin Deep

by Sales Associate Steve (Stiney)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, F/M, Fluff, Tattoo Artist Castiel, Tattoo Artist Meg Masters, Tattooed Castiel, tattooed Meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stiney/pseuds/Sales%20Associate%20Steve
Summary: Even from the start, some people are just very much a part of you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).



When they were 8 years old there wasn’t a day that went by that Meg and Castiel didn’t jump off of the school bus covered head to toe in “tattoos” they’d given each.

As time passed, no amount of marker removal or forced separation deterred the pair and more often then not they’d both head home with reprimanding notes from their teacher clutched in multi-color splashed fists.

*

At 15, washable Crayola colors evolved into the more permanent and _painful_ process of sewing needles and Indian ink that had been stolen along with a half empty bottle of scotch from the home office of Castiel’s father.

“Shit, be careful.” Meg ground through clenched teeth; bleary eyes taking in the scene of her best friend alternating between dipping the needle into the inkwell and piercing the sensitive, milky white skin of her hip.

“I’m nearly done, I promise.” Castiel assured; thumb soothing over unblemished flesh as he leaned back to inspect his creation.

“What the fuck, Castiel?” Meg barked; fully noticing, for the first time, the shape taking form on her hip. “Did you seriously just put a fucking unicorn on me?”

“I like it.” Castiel answered; voice full of pride as he splashed scotch over the spot with a final nod.

“A fluffy damned unicorn!” Meg hissed; the sting of alcohol giving way to the coolness of the amber liquid trailing down her thigh. “You better not tell anyone or I swear to God you’re gonna wake up on a cloud playing a harp, got it, _Clarence_?”

*

They were nearly 21 when they made their way back to each other.

Sitting in easy, familiar companionship on the front stoop of Meg’s childhood home as they showed off the new collections of bold lines inked into skin. Ones that told of their separate growth and differences, but still managed to expand on the sharpie shaped stories of their shared past.

Buckets full of rain fell around them, just as it had, three years prior, on the day after their high school graduation. When both of them had reluctantly confessed the decision to go off in opposite directions so they could reach toward the same shared goal.

The one they’d had since Ms. MacGill’s second grade class.

“It was quite an intensive process that took nearly the entire first summer. ” Castiel explained of the Tebori tattooing method that had been used to adorn his entire back with an intricate pair of dark wings.

“You know, you don’t actually have to go with the whole time consuming, hand carving method anymore.” Meg pointed out; knocking their shoulders together. “We’ve got these amazing inventions now called machines”

“It was actually a very enlightening experience.” Castiel countered as Meg took a final drag of her cigarette.

“Nah. I’m just gonna stick with my modern technology. More efficient.” She stubbed out the Marlboro butt on the concrete step then got to her feet and motioned Castiel to follow.

Once inside, wet clothes were quickly stripped off before they crawled under the clean, cool sheets of Meg’s too small, twin sized bed.

“I _think_ his name was Sam.” Meg; leg flung over Castiel’s; laughingly recounted the boy who’d followed her up the coast of California for an entire day before he’d realized he’d never actually known her name.

“What are you doing?” Meg asked; story brought to a halt by the pressure of Castiel’s fingers rubbing over the faded, amateur unicorn artwork on her hip.

“Let me fix it.” Castiel insisted with a whisper; breath tickling the shell of her ear.

“I happen to like my unicorn, just the way it is. Thank you very much.” Meg defiantly countered as she tucked herself closer to the warmth of Castiel’s tattoo covered body.


End file.
